Pure Half-Blood
by isabelle-hunterofshadows
Summary: Peyton is daughter of Zeus and a Hogwarts potions professor. She's spent her entire life struggling to balance her double life, and now her parents are sending her off North Shore public high school! What happens when the king of the gods and a powerful witch are parents to the most powerful fifteen year old girl in the supernatural world? Pure half-blood or pure mean girl?
1. Chapter 1

**_Intro_**

School and summer camp: a normal fact of life for plenty of fifteen year old girls. No matter what else is wrong or different with me, those experiences make me at least relatively normal, right?

I wish.

In fact, 'normal' is my polar opposite. Look up 'abnormal' in the dictionary and you'll find quite a few pictures of me. My summer camp just happens to be Camp Half-Blood, home of the demi-gods. (A demigod is a child of one Greek gods or goddesses). School is pretty out of the ordinary for me as well – Hogwarts. If I have to explain what Hogwarts is to you, then you might as well live on Mars (a planet named appropriately after a cousin on my dad's side).

You see, my mom is a witch; no, I'm not just saying that because she's evil or maleficent. She actually is a real witch, with a wand, broom, and everything; in fact, she is currently a Hogwarts potions professor. My daddy is Zeus. Yes, you heard right. Zeus, king of the gods. With the two of them as parents, I never stood a chance with normality.  
Seriously. If I really had to have a god for a parent, couldn't they have been someone like Dionysus? Nobody ever hears about that guy. Ever.

Anyways, demi-gods spend the summer at Camp Half-Blood. Young witches and wizards study at Hogwarts.  
As for me, I got the worst of both worlds. At Camp Half-Blood I am the half-blood wizard freak with the 'magic fairy wand'. At Hogwarts (Hufflepuff house to be exact), I am the half-blood god freak who can control the wind. Even my genetics contradict themselves; a pure half-blood.  
Oh yeah, and I did I forget to mention that my oblivious parents are sending me to North Shore public high school for my sophomore year?  
Wish me luck. I'll need it.  
The name is Peyton, by the way. Peyton of Olympus, daughter of Zeus and half witch. That is all I am and that is all I will ever be. Even now that I'm transferring to North Shore High School...

Chapter One

Last year during spring break, I visited my Uncle Hades and my aunt, or cousin, Persephone. The entire Greek mythology family is entirely inbred, by the way. Also, they lived in the Land of the Dead – the Underworld.

Let me tell you, I had no idea what Hell was like until I entered a real high school cafeteria for the first time. Or as I like to call it, Land of the Walking Dead.  
Before North Shore, I thought lunch was just for eating. Of course, I obviously expected everyone to talk among their friends, but this is way more extreme than that. In fact, some of these girls weren't even eating at all! Most of them were thinner than me, but I wasn't self-conscious about that. I had more important worries than a pound or two.

Everyone was separated into distinct social groups. As I understand it, they are better known as 'cliques' – all of the jocks sat together, the artists sat together, and the band geeks sat together. Even the Asians sat together, divided into two additional groups: nerdy and cool.  
I wondered what would happen if there was a 'cool' person, who earned good grades in addition to being gorgeous and popular. How does one determine where they fit in? On a more urgent note, how could I possibly expect to fit in any group at all within a school of less than a thousand other teens, especially if there wasn't a soul like me in existence?  
I wandered around aimlessly for a few minutes, lost in the hectic jungle of a room until I finally found a table.  
"Sit down," a blonde girl with two friends at either side beckoned in my direction. I scanned the cafeteria, not sure she was speaking to me. "Seriously, sit down."  
I sat, still not sure which clique this was. I quickly learned they were the 'popular' group. Was that a good thing?  
"Why don't I know you?" she asked, a curious expression pasted onto her flawless face.  
"My name is Peyton Olympus, I'm new. I used to go to boarding school in England." True enough.  
"Wait, what?"  
"I lived at the school in a-"  
"No, I know what boarding school is, I'm not retarded. But you've seriously never been to a public school before?"  
I shrugged.  
"Shut up. Shut up, shut up."  
"I didn't say anything."  
"But you're, like, really pretty."  
I never really thought about it, but I guess I am kind of pretty. I may not be quite as skinny and blonde as picture perfect Regina, but I have long, soft ebony hair cascading down my back and delicate facial features. My eyes are emeralds. Literally, but that's another story for another day. Back to Regina...  
"Thanks," I blushed, flattered.  
She immediately countered, "So you agree?"  
"What?"  
"You think you're really pretty."  
"Oh! No, that's not what I meant at all-"  
"Oh my god, I love your necklace! Where did you get it?"  
That was my Camp Half-Blood end of summer necklace!  
"Camp," I replied simply.  
True enough, right?


	2. Chapter 2

It was a long day at North Shore. Everything was so different! My favorite classes were English and U.S. History. Who knew that humans had their own stories to tell?  
"Mom! Where's Pegasus?" Dad gave me my beloved winged horse when I was five - as soon as I was old enough to feel lonely.  
"I thought he was sleeping in the broom cupboard! Check the cauldrons, maybe he's playing there again."  
Sure enough, there he was, splashing in a fresh brew of Liquid Lucks. "Come here, silly horsey."

I cooed playfully, cuddled him in my lap before logging onto my email.

I had two new emails! I know, it's pathetic, but this got me unusually enthusiastic. One was a forward about a sale at Flourish and Blotts. I skipped that one. The second was from Regina. 'The Rules of Being Plastic'.  
I stared at the screen in astonishment after reading the title. Does this mean I'm officially plastic now? I did a little happy dance in my seat. Pegasus trotted around merrily, picking up on my euphoric vibe.  
Inspired, I meticulously read each rule. Trust me on this; rules were not something the Plastics were short of. A majority of these rules seem utterly ridiculous, and they all had to do with fashion and outer appearance. I still don't understand how being pretty makes the Plastics more popular than everyone else. After all, beauty is just one of many qualities, right?  
'You can only wear a ponytail once a week.'  
I don't understand where they came up with this rule, but whatever.  
'On Wednesday, we wear pink.'  
I'll have to ask Mom if she still has that cerise cardigan I wore to the Yule Ball.  
To fit in with Regina George and the Plastics, I would do absolutely anything.


	3. Chapter 3

Darkness and blood.  
Those were my first thoughts as I saw my crimson homecoming dress the day of the dance. A dark satin sash tied around my waist tied the whole outfit together perfectly, literally and figuratively. I fastened my midnight hued pearls around my neck.  
My mom just barely managed to snap a few decent pictures before I headed off to Regina's pre-party.

The Plastics looked breathtaking. Regina was wearing a Cinderella-style azure dress with a miniature silver tiara. Karen looks a little slutty in her tiny little dress, but the faded cherry color really works with her beach tan. Gretchen's lengthy black gown makes her look taller and more graceful than she actually is. She even paired it with the perfect hoop earrings. Gorgeous!  
"Peyton," I jump at the sound of Regina's intimidating voice.  
"Hey, Regina. What's up?"  
"Did you know that you were voted homecoming queen?"  
"Oh my gods!" Oops! Would Regina notice my slip in speech? I improvised and tried to act as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. "I mean, are you kidding? That is so fetch!" I heard Gretchen say that earlier, so it was cool, right?  
She looked slightly confused, but carried on.  
"Well, that's why we wanted to be friends with you. Because you were pretty, I mean."  
That's all? I was a bit disappointed that she didn't appreciate any of my other qualities, but beggars can't be choosers. Besides, as long as Regina likes me, it's enough. I'm Plastic!  
"But Gretchen told me that Karen heard from Dawn that Trang Pak and her friends nominated you as a joke. A joke! You're pretty Peyton, but you're not like us."  
Please, I sent up a quick prayer to the gods. This cannot be happening.  
"So after today..."  
No! Please, no! Zeus, help me!  
"You're out of the Plastics."


	4. Chapter 4

"Happy birthday dear Peyton, happy birthday to you!" Gods, goddesses, demigods, witches and wizards sang cheerily in honor of my birth, a day which I deeply regretted.  
The chorus of the familiar song lingered in the air. The only reason I could muster a smile was the irony of that day. Being sixteen is so not sweet, despite its misled reputation as 'the best year of our young lives'. Whether you're mortal or way too powerful like me, being a teenager is never as easy as it's made out to be. And Happy Birthday? Is that supposed to be a joke? Okay, there is one positive: a birthday marks one year closer to death. Hey, would you really want to live forever if sometimes you couldn't live with yourself for one more day? Be honest, do you even want to live forever as it is?

I pasted a totally fake, but hopefully convincing, grin on my sullen face as Mom and Dad placed an intricately decorated cake in front of me. Sixteen chocolate layers stacked neatly into a tower shadowed the table. Pink icing was sculpted to perfection into seemingly real roses. My eyes scan across the crowded room as I wonder which one of my godly relatives was responsible for the masterpiece dessert. Or perhaps it was Professor Flitwick, one of my mother's co-workers. Honestly, who cares? Not me.  
There were a few reasons to be happy, but I just wasn't feeling it. Everyone ate and talked and danced and had a brilliant time, with the exception of me. I opened my gifts, and was actually impressed with the Fall Out Boy album, thanks to Apollo. Other than that, nothing of interesting occurred.

I stormed out of the room. As I expected, Mom and Dad were right at my heels. Part of me wished they wouldn't try to comfort me like that. I know they mean well, but that's just the problem. I want them to have a happy, problem-free life together, and I'm just adding onto the burden.  
Mom started the dreaded conversation. I predicted what she would say before it escaped her quivering lips. "Honey, I know you're having a tough time right now."  
I scoffed at her understatement.  
"Plus, now you're worried about where you're going to go to school or if you even want to. That's a huge decision for someone so young, and we just want to be there for you, whatever you decide."  
"How can I decide? Do I even have any options here?"  
"Of course," Dad replied. "If you want to go to a regular school again, there's McKinley High in Lima, Ohio. They have a terrific musical theater program, and you've always had such a beautiful voice. If you don't want that, there is always Hogwarts and Camp Half-Blood. We could pretend this whole incident never even happened. If you don't think either of those will work out, there's always homeschool."  
Mom nodded. "I think starting over in Lima sounds nice, don't you? Your new friends won't know a thing, and they can't judge you for something they don't know about. Whether you want to tell them about your past is your choice."  
Were they for real? "Next you'll tell me I can move to a magical land of rainbows and unicorns," I retorted sarcastically, rolling my eyes.  
"Is that what you want?" Dad asked, seeming genuinely serious. "Because I can make that happen in a heartbeat."  
"No! I just want to live in a world where there are people like me!"  
"Demi-god witches?" Mom challenged. Maybe it was just my imagination, but her voice sounded disgusted as she spat the word 'demi-god'. Great. My own mom didn't even appreciate who I was.  
"I knew you wouldn't understand!" I yelled, and ran up to my room. I slammed the door, not caring about the ear-drum shattering noise thundering throughout the house like a lightning bolt. I wished with all my heart that there could be just one person would not only look past my flaws, but embrace them.  
Unfortunately, life doesn't work like that. Mom and Dad don't understand a thing about what I was going through. I would never be able to hang out with my friends because they'd notice there's something unusually different about me – and we all know how humans feel about being different. There is no place in the immortal world where I've felt as if I truly belonged, and I certainly don't belong in the normal world.  
That's why, the following day at the reaping, I would volunteer myself as tribute in the next Hunger Games.


	5. Chapter 5

You could say I was stupid, I suppose, or simply just desperate. Maybe a little bit of both. Either way, there was no way I was backing out of this. The Hunger Games seemed like my last shot at making a life for myself.  
I began creating my strategy right away. The first thought to enter my mind was District 12. That's where I needed to go. I would be guaranteed a spot, considering how few volunteers there are. Actually, I might be the very first. Competition would be scarce, if any, and I would have my place without having to fight for it.

Blending in wouldn't be an issue. I could whip up a suitable disguise in minutes. The only issue was my parents. If normal teens think they have trouble sneaking out to go to a party or whatever, try sneaking away from Zeus to enter in a fight to the death on national television!  
Whatever happens, I pray that the odds will be ever in my favor.

"Mom, I'm just going out on a walk." I informed her casually, hoping not to attract her attention.  
"Are you sure you're okay?" she looked more worried than I expected her to be. "I hope yesterday didn't upset you too much."  
Crap. She's unknowingly making me feel guilty about this! I hugged her, knowing I would have to do way more to make up for it, in the event that I should ever return home. "Don't worry. I won't be gone long. There are some friends I'll actually miss a little bit here...you know, Karen and Gretchen. Maybe even Regina. I can't just leave and not say goodbye."  
She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "We don't have a plan yet. Do you have an alibi?"  
I gulped. If lies were the only way...I had to say it. "Lima. That's what I want: a new beginning for me, a place where I can start over."  
Nothing I said in a million years could have made her happier. "It's a new beginning for all of us. Peyton, I'm so proud of you. This was a though choice for you, and I love you so much."  
"I love you too," I ran out before I had the chance to change my mind.


	6. Chapter 6

Needless to say, I certainly wasn't going to see Karen or Gretchen. I did leave some yellow roses for Regina; if I was truly going to enter a fight to the death on national television, I might as well do it with some good karma on my side.  
Sneaking into District 12 wasn't that difficult.

Did anyone notice that I didn't belong? I crossed my fingers and tried to go with the flow. One girl, probably a few years younger than me, waved.  
"Do I know you?" she asked being surprisingly social for someone whose life might be ruined in a matter of minutes.  
"I don't recognize you," I responded carefully. The key to lying is not giving away any more information than you need to.  
"Oh. Well, nice to meet you, although the circumstances surely aren't the best."  
I asked curiously, "Are you scared?" The more I soaked up of what it felt like to live in District 12, the better chance I had for playing the role convincingly.  
"Not for me. My little sister..." her voice trailed off in pain.  
Maybe, in some way, I was helping these people. None of these girls had any reason to worry. I would volunteer as tribute, and they'd return home perfectly safe. "Is she here?" I scanned the crowd, curiosity prodding at my mind. This was so much to take in!  
"No, she hasn't been entered yet. She's much too young. But we depend on each other, and right now, she needs me at home."  
"You must love her." I reminisced on my yearning for a sibling when I was just around her age. Then again, every time I get what I want it tends to backfire.  
"Oh, yes, very much so."  
We stood in silence for what seemed like forever.  
"Katniss," she introduced herself, holding out her hand.  
I shook it. "Peyton."  
"May the odds be ever in your favor."  
"And with you," I whispered.  
Just then, Effie Trinket captured our attention. "Happy Hunger Games!" she trilled. Katniss mouthed each word with her. "And may the odds be ever in your favor." Those words echoed in my head over and over again like the fading sound of a drum.  
Effie daintily raised her hand, fingering her spidery fingers through the girl's names. In attempt to not attract attention, I waited to see if the odds really were in my favor.  
"Peyton Olympus!"  
I stepped forward obediently at the sound of my name, astonished that I had been chosen. I pretended to look horrified at I dragged away, when I realized I actually was quite petrified. What on earth was I thinking? Is this really what I wanted? Oh well, what's done is done. I'm one of twenty-four tributes, and I can't take that back.

Whether I come out of this alive or not doesn't matter. My life wasn't worth living anyways.


	7. Chapter 7

This years Hunger Games just happened to take place in Narnia. I began preparing as I eyed my competition. A short, burly boy sharpened a knife just a few feet away from me. A tall, skinny girl passed by me, her intimidating blonde curls flouncing just past her shoulders. I immediately thought of Regina. A lanky boy with dazzling baby blue eyes. I might have had a crush on him if, you, he wasn't trying to kill me.  
Why did I have to be so stupid? I should have thought this through before the reaping. Was I going to die? Which one of these mortals would be my murderer? Even worse, which ones would I be forced to kill?  
Let the games begin!

I sprinted toward the cornucopia. Big mistake. The blonde - Isobel - turned out to be both prettier and tougher than Regina - not to mention a heck of a lot faster. She reached the weapons before I could manage, and darted at me with an expertly sharpened dagger. I ducked underneath her arm, swift enough to evade her. She laughed and sliced my shoulders with no compassion. Fury raged through my merciless heart. Without a second thought, I managed to grab an arrow and stab her in the chest.

Hearing her dreadful shouting, I grabbed the bow and arrow before dashing into the Narnian horizon.  
Running off, I considered the significance of my mistake. Isobel's final screams echoed several moments after her breath ceased. My ears throbbed with pain. Certainly, I came here with the expectation to kill, to murder. But never in a million years would I ever imagine the guilt and pain that came along with it.  
Not to mention that I did it on national television.  
"Peyton." A voice roared in the distance. My eyes widened with fear.  
"Wh-who are you?" I stuttered. "Reveal yourself!"  
"Very well." At that moment, a scruffy lion appeared before me.  
I gasped in astonishment. "Aslan?"  
"No," he rumbled. "I've been sent to take you to him."  
"Why does Aslan want to see me?"  
He roared, "Only he can tell you that. Now, you must ride on my back and I shall deliver you to your designated meeting place."  
I obeyed, gripping on tightly to his disheveled mane.  
"If you aren't Aslan, who are you?"  
"Rumbleroar."


	8. Chapter 8

Rumbleroar left me in the middle of a meadow. For a brief moment, I stopped and brushed my palm against the soft grass. It was the most gorgeous place I had ever seen in my life, like a beautifully quilted green pillow, an avocado-hued cloud fit for a king.  
Remembering my situation, I glanced up. Sure enough, Aslan was waiting for me under a willow tree.  
He was even more majestic than I could ever imagine. His golden fur shined like diamonds in the sparkling sunlight. My eyes hurt when I attempted to look at him. He seemed almost too beautiful to look at. My eyes hurt at the very sight.  
"Peyton," he bellowed gently. "Come."  
"Aslan. I can't believe it's you."  
"You made a mistake."  
I grimaced. "Which one."  
He chuckled. I believe you know what I am referring to."  
It took only a slight hesitation for me to nod in comprehension.  
"You became someone you're not. Why did Regina's opinion mean so much to you?"  
Tears streamed down my eyes. "I already was someone I wasn't. At least, I didn't feel like I could be myself."  
"Then maybe," he suggested, "You could try harder to figure out who you are instead of letting others tell you."  
His advice soothed me like sunshine on a cold day.  
"You're right. I wish I could just take it all back."  
"Maybe you can."  
"What? Really?"  
"It's very simple. All the damage will be erased: Regina and the North Shore students won't remember you, you will be removed from the reaping, and Isobel will be alive once more."  
It sounded too wonderful to be true. "What do I do?"


	9. Chapter 9

I exited a mystifying blue box only to find myself in the North Shore cafeteria.

"Why don't I know you?"  
Oh my gods! It was my first day at North Shore all over again! I glanced around the hectic cafeteria, memories flowing through my overwhelmed mind; cliques gossiping at their designated tables, noise everywhere, and Karen, Gretchen and Regina staring at me intently, impatiently awaited their answer.  
I smiled. No more lies and secrets for this girl! Then again, who really cares what Regina thinks? I just want her out of my life.  
"Sorry, I can't talk. I have to meet some friends."

Regina's cunning smirk was immediately replaced with a quizzical expression.  
"You'll never have any real ones, anyway," I informed her before walking away with no regrets.

It took me a while to make real friends at North Shore. I'm lucky to have found a few people who genuinely like me for who I am. Only a few know of my powers; I always wait to tell them until I am sure they appreciate me for the person I am, not what I am. Regina is still the queen-bee, but if she ever messes with my friends, let's just say I have a few spells up my sleeve.


End file.
